All Souls (C)

 2 Mac 12:42-45; Phil 3:20-21; Lk 7:11-17

My dear brothers and sisters, 

On this sacred day as we commemorate All Souls, our hearts are drawn to the mystery that has accompanied humanity from the beginning of time—the longing for life beyond death. The search for immortality is as old as humanity itself. Allow me to begin with a story that reflects this deep desire.

Many centuries ago, in ancient Mesopotamia, there lived a mighty king named Gilgamesh. He was powerful, successful, feared in battle, and ruler of a prosperous kingdom. Yet something troubled him. His closest friend Enkidu died, and for the first time, the mighty king faced the reality of death. Fear gripped his heart. All his victories, his palaces, his strength, his wealth—none of it could stop death. Gilgamesh could not accept that his life would end like every other mortal. So he set out on a long, perilous journey to find the secret of eternal life. He crossed mountains, passed through forests and darkness, and sailed across seas to meet the only man said to have achieved

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Sir. 35:15-17, 20-22; 2 Tim. 4:6-8, 16-18; Lk. 18:9-14

The Gospel of Luke tells us of two men who went up to the temple to pray: one a Pharisee, and the other a tax collector. At first glance, the story seems simple, almost familiar, but within it lies one of the most profound teachings of Jesus on the nature of the human heart. The Pharisee stands tall, confident in his own righteousness, listing his achievements before God like a merchant presenting his accounts: “I thank you, Lord, that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week. I give a tenth of all I get.” Meanwhile, the tax collector stands at a distance, unable even to lift his eyes to heaven. He beats his breast and whispers, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And Jesus concludes: it was the tax collector, not the Pharisee, who went home justified before God, for “everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

The contrast between these two men is not merely about prayer styles. It is about two different ways of understanding God, life, and ourselves. The Pharisee’s prayer is filledwith himself. His words revolve around I: “I thank you… I am not like others…

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

 Ex. 17:8-13; 2 Tim. 3:14-4:2; Lk. 18:1-8

In the fourth century before Christ, in the city of Athens, there was a widow whose property had been unjustly seized by a wealthy nobleman. In that era, women had little voice in public life, and widows were among the most vulnerable in society. Yet, this particular woman refused to be silenced. Day after day, she appeared before the magistrate’s door. She stood outside the court when the judge arrived in the morning and remained there until he left in the evening. She spoke to anyone who would listen about the injustice she had suffered. She found ways to send petitions, to repeat her claim before the judge’s attendants, to appeal to neighbors to testify for her. Though she had no power, no wealth, and no legal standing that could rival her oppressor, she possessed something stronger than all: persistence. At last, the magistrate, annoyed and wearied by her continual cries, took up her case—not because he cared about justice, but because he wanted peace and rest. Her relentless insistence opened the door to justice.